


i lost my strength completely (oh be near me)

by PrinceDrew



Category: Warrior Cats - Fandom
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-28
Updated: 2019-08-28
Packaged: 2020-07-27 21:07:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20052559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrinceDrew/pseuds/PrinceDrew
Summary: Soon, Sootstream had done all he could. All that was left was to wait for the end.He could not bear to see the end.But he must, he reasoned with himself. He was a medicine cat, and with such a title came duties that must be seen to and done with. Even if such duties felt like burdens. Even if such duties were watching his leader - his best friend, closer than kin - die.A leader has nine lives. Minnowstar has reached the end of hers, and Sootstream refuses to let her die alone.





	i lost my strength completely (oh be near me)

**Author's Note:**

> Mom says it's my turn to write self-indulgent fics about my OCs.
> 
> To be honest, these OCs have a much larger story than what is presented here, but this is the moment I've chosen to focus on for now. Be careful if you are sensitive to death and grief.
> 
> Title taken from [Sufjan Steven's Death with Dignity](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dsGODTySH0E) but I also reccomend listening to [this version of Casimir Pulaski day](https://youtu.be/6FiO7P2z1ko?t=49) also by Sufjan Stevens because that was a huge inspiration for this fic.

They had watched the sunrise together that morning, and now she was gone.

She would be back, of course. Minnowstar had promised as much, resting her tail under his, and not quite looking at him. But she had promised.

She _promised_.

Waiting, Sootstream often found, was akin to agony. Too often had he learnt that sitting in the camp did him no favours, if only because his mind was half-focused on what was going on outside, rather than where it was needed. There was always that urge, just to leave camp and find her, but there were always queens to tend to, elders and sickly warriors to watch over, and it was only later, when an apprentice or young warrior dashed into camp, panic in their eyes, that he would leave to find her. Or she would limp into camp, insisting he saw to others before her, before stumbling into her den and falling asleep.

But she had more lives, those times.

That day was no different. She had enough sense to leave Dapplestream behind, so the deputy organised most of the warriors. With one eye on the camp entrance, Sootstream saw to the elders as he always did, ignoring his sister's attempts to talk of retirement - how could he think of it, on such a day where he'd be needed most? - and fetched moss and herbs alongside Rainpaw. Taught her what a red sky omen meant. Dodged questions on the whereabouts of Minnowstar and whoever else she took with her.

Mostly, he waited. Sometimes, his mind would slip back to his mentor, who almost spent more time gazing at the sky than he did with healing herbs. He was not a particularly devout medicine cat himself, but he found himself murmuring words that Heronleaf once did moons ago.

_‘O StarClan be kind today, for my burden rests heavy upon my shoulders…'_

“Will they be all right?” Rainpaw asked him at sunhigh, her amber eyes filled with worry. “They didn’t take any herbs with them, wherever they went.”

“They will be fine,” the elder grey tom assured her. “Minnowstar knows how to handle herself.”

The look his apprentice gave him was not one he wanted to dwell on. Instead, he asked her to fetch some goldenrod, and that was all.

Soon, his duties for the day were done, and there was nothing left to do. No apprentices had been injured in training, not even clumsy little Lightpaw. Even seeing to Thistlewhisker would have seen as needless fretting, as she wasn’t expected to kit for another quarter moon or so. Reedflower seemed to have occupied her attention anyway, as the two mollies sat together, lazily washing each other.

He settled by the entrance of his den and watched the entrance to the camp. Rainpaw brought over a large trout - “To share,” she said, as she always did - but Sootstream could only pick at it. It felt like he wouldn’t be able to keep it down.

The sun was lowering and the dusk patrol had left, Dapplestream among them, when in barrelled Goldenpool, the white of her fur streaked with blood. She stumbled to the centre of the camp, her eyes flicking everywhere, her fur standing at points.

"Sootstream!" Panic had flooded her voice. “I need Sootstream!”

“I’m here,” he said quickly, soothingly, bounding over to the young cat. “Are you alright? Are you hurt? Rainpaw!”

“I’m not, I’m not, I’m not,” Goldenpool said, breathless, shaking her head. “But Minnowstar - Minnowstar!”

It felt as though his heart would fall from his chest.

“Someone fetch for Dapplestream!” he called, trying to keep his voice steady. He thought that he saw Beetlefoot dash to the entrance, but he pushed that from his mind and looked at the molly in front of him. “Goldenpool. What about Minnowstar?”

Rainpaw appeared, brushing up against Sootstream, dropping a bundle of herbs to the ground as Goldenpool let out a wail.

“You need to help her!” she cried. “Please! Help her!”

For a moment, she looked like -

_“Help him!”_

No. Not now.

“Where is she?” he pressed. “Goldenpool, I can’t help if I don’t know where she is.”

“Have some thyme,” Rainpaw urged her quietly, pushing the herb closer. “Swallow the leaves, they’ll help with the panic.”

Goldenpool just shook her head again, and collapsed to the ground, as though all her energy had gone.

“She - she’s on her way back,” and she sounded like a kit. “There was - it was going so well - then Littlepelt appeared - so red - just like - but Mothstar - too late…”

He opened his mouth to speak again, to demand a straight answer, because _she wasn’t helping and his leader was dying and he needed to help her help her help her_ when he heard a cry of shock from - from how many cats?

Too many. He looked up.

There, Minnowstar was limping into the camp, her head low but eyes up, supported on both sides by a black and white cat and reddish-brown tabby with a white belly on the other. Mothstar and Stoatstripe, he noted distantly, but his gaze was focused on Minnowstar.

Her pelt was more red than not, chunks of fur missing, torn out. Deep wounds littered her body, and she seemed to strain with each step she took, heaving from the effort. Her left ear was torn, split, damaged. He could see the bite mark on her throat, could see the red seeping out, could see her fading - 

But her eyes were still shining. As if to reassure him.

He ran toward her, all thoughts of Goldenpool gone from his head. 

“Sootstream -” Mothstar tried, stepping forward, away from Minnowstar, but he ignored her, brushed past her to reach his leader.

Stoatstripe stepped to the side as Sootstream stopped in front of her. It felt hollow inside his chest, a dull ache flaring up. They touched noses for a moment, maybe more. She felt cold.

“Minnowstar,” he said quietly, so quietly that only she could hear. “What did I tell you? You should have stopped. You…”

"But I made it back, didn't I?" Minnowstar asked, with all the strength she didn't have. "Just like I promised." 

And she did promise. Sootstream could not deny her that.

He broke away. Went to her side so she could lean on him, and watched as the ShadowClan leader joined him at her other side.

“To my den,” he insisted because he knew she liked there more. “You can rest there.”

Together, in silence, they guided Minnowstar to the medicine den. It felt as though the eyes of the entire clan were on them. Where was Beetlefoot with Dapplestream? The young tom was normally quicker than this, and Dapplestream wasn’t a slow cat either. Surely they were almost there.

The den was how he had left it earlier. Minnowstar stumbled to his nest - because it was always his nest when she was in here - and collapsed, letting out an awful, shuddering breath as she did. Mothstar was by her instantly, crouching in front of her dying equal. Her dying sister.

“Poppy seeds first,” Sootstream said. “Let me give her some poppy seeds.”

And he did, along with some honey so they went down a little better. Minnowstar lapped them up dutifully but didn’t move beyond lifting and lowering her head.

All Sootstream wanted to do was heal her. Make Minowstar comfortable, as he always had done, with moss and magpie feathers and everything she loved.

But he couldn't. He had to wait silently, through their last conversation, through Mothstar’s apologies and _"You were always forgiven,"_ and Minnowstar's eyes (blue, bluer than the river and the skies) sliding shut.

Mothstar stayed crouched for a moment, her tail covering her paws, head bowed. His eyes fell upon the scar on her chest, then to the ones on her muzzle. Had he gave her one, all those seasons ago?

“I know you hate me,” Mothstar said. “And you have every right to do so. But she’s my sister. And we both love her. That must mean something to you.” She looked up, but not at Sootstream. Just past him, out into the camp clearing and beyond. “I’ll get out of your paws.”

“Let Rainpaw see to you first,” he told her. “You and Stoatstripe both. You can’t travel all that way as you are. I’ll take care of Minnowstar.”

She raised her gaze to stare at him but nodded. She rose, shaking out her fur as she did so, and stepped towards the entrance, slowly, delicately, but then she paused, and looked back at him.

“Sootstream -”

“What’s going on?!” Dapplestream’s yelp rang out. “Where’s Minnowstar? And why is the ShadowClan deputy in our camp?” Silence, then: _“Answer me!_”

Both leader and medicine cat ran out of the den, leaving Minnowstar. The centre of the camp was clear aside from Stoatstripe and Dapplestream, the rest of the clan - Beetlefoot included - watching. The younger cat was crouched in front of Stoatstripe, ears back but eyes cautious, steady. Waiting. The tom was sat still, tail flicking back and forth, but his copper eyes were hard and focused on the calico cat.

“Your leader was injured by a ShadowClan traitor,” he said slowly. “We brought her back to her camp instead of letting her die out there.”

Dapplestream spat. “How should I trust you? Snake-tongue!”

“He speaks the truth,” Sootstream offered, stepping forward, wincing as the rest of the clan turned to watch him. “Minnowstar is resting now. Dapplestream, you are smart. Now is not the time to start fights. Especially not in one’s own camp.”

Mothstar stepped forward as well, bowing her head. “Stoatstripe is anything but a snake-tongue,” she said stiffly. “If you don’t believe me or my mate, ask Goldenpool. Perhaps you’ll trust your own clanmate much more.” She raised her head and glared the deputy, her pale green eyes unwavering in their intensity.

Something changed inside Dapplestream. Their expression melted, and they stood up, turning their head to look for Goldenpool. The molly was huddled with Reedflower and Rainpaw by the nursery, still shivering and shaking, eyes still wide. But still. She peered up at Dapplestream, and nodded.

“They’re not lying,” she mewed. “Littlepelt attacked Minnowstar. Mothstar and Stoatstripe are the reason she even made it back to camp.”

For a moment, there was nothing but the sound of the river rushing by. 

“…I believe you,” Dapplestream murmured at length, looking away and letting their tail drop. “What reason have you to lie?” They looked up back up at Stoatstripe. “My apologies. All I was told was something was wrong with my leader.”

Stoatstripe nodded. “I can’t blame you. I’d be the same if something happened to Mothstar.”

Sootstream let out a sigh and shook his head. “Rainpaw,” he called, “can you see over Stoatstripe and Mothstar? I need to return to Minnowstar.”

His apprentice jumped but nodded. As if his own words had broken the quiet, cats started moving again, murmuring amongst themselves, eyeing up the two non-Clan members. Mothstar padded over to Stoatstripe, and some cats approached Dapplestream. Sootstream turned back to his den when a murmur caught his ear..

“You should, should, um, you should rest up for the journey…”

Hot, sharp anger flared. He whipped around to face the offender.

“Your leader isn’t dead yet!” he snapped. “Don’t you dare talk as though she is!”

Lightpaw. He had yelled at Lightpaw. The white apprentice was frozen, eyes wide. 

The clan was staring at Sootstream again. Twisttail’s eyes in particular seemed to linger. He coughed, and straightened himself up, resting his tails over his paws, dipped his head in apology, then turned to Dapplestream. 

“You can start thinking about your first deputy,” he said. “But, StarClan be so kind, do not think for one moment you are becoming leader tonight. It is too late in the day to make that journey.”

Dapplestream’s ears flattened, but they nodded, slowly. Sootstream nodded back and retreated back into his den.

Minnowstar was sleeping. So he set about his work, as though she were any other cat. He rubbed in poultices and laid cobwebs over her wounds. Fetched some water in case she woke up, and brought in a finch from the fresh-kill pile, just in case. Looked her over once, twice, in case he had missed anything. Rainpaw flitted in and out of the den, picking up herbs and cobwebs, and he found himself thankful that they had stocked up earlier that day.

Soon, he had done all he could. All that was left was to wait for the end.

He could not bear to see the end. 

But he must, he reasoned with himself. He was a medicine cat, and with such a title came duties that must be seen to and done with. Even if such duties felt like burdens. Even if such duties were watching his leader - his best friend, closer than kin - die.

Sootstream was not fond of StarClan. He conversed with them, yes, but he had never quite trusted them. Not since early in his career. Still, he found himself raising his head, as his mentor often did, and closing his eyes.

“O StarClan,” he murmured, “be kind today, for my burden rests heavy upon my shoulders. My best friend is dying, and I need you to be gentle on her. Let her not suffer any more. Let her rest.”

StarClan remained silent. He opened his eyes and lowered his head. Minnowstar stirred a little but did nothing else.

With little else to do, he set about making himself a nest just across from her. using leftover moss and flower petals. He had just finished and settled in when Rainpaw entered, and headed to her own nest further back in the den, across from him and Minnowstar in her nest just to the side. Neither mentor or apprentice spoke for a moment as Rainpaw began to wash herself.

“Is all well?” Sootstream asked.

Rainpaw paused in her grooming, and nodded.

“I’ve given Goldenpool poppy seeds and thyme,” she mewed quietly. “She’s asleep now - she wasn’t injured at all, but I had to take her to the river to make sure of that. Mothstar was hurt, and Stoatstripe had some cuts on his muzzle that might scar if he doesn’t take care of them. They only wanted travelling herbs though. I put cobwebs on their wounds just in case but they refused anything more.”

“They’ve gone back to ShadowClan then?”

She nodded again. “Mothstar said she’ll send for news in the morning. Reedflower and Dapplestream are watching over Goldenpool, but I left some thyme leaves with them. She might still need them when she wakes up. Touch-and-heal would be too much for her right now though.”

As she spoke, he listened. As he listened, he thought and he realised.

“Rainpaw,” he said quietly. “You’re ready.”

The younger molly blinked and tilted her head. “What for?” she asked.

“To become a full medicine cat.”

“Oh!” She sprang upright, glee clear on her face. “Thank you! Thank you thank you thank you!” Then she stopped and she glanced at Minnowstar. She lowered herself back into her nest, looking away. “I’m... I’m honoured you think I’m ready.”

His good ear twitched. She had every right to be joyful. When he had been told the same, he had been bouncing off the walls. Why was she denying herself?

“I know you’re ready,” he corrected. “Next half moon, when we go to the moonstone, we’ll have the ceremony.”

She nodded, then glanced up at him. “Do you know what name…?” Hope crept into her mew.

Yes. That was more like it.

“Does a warrior know theirs?” he purred, amused. “It’s only a short while. You can tell your kin now if you want. StarClan knows we deserve some good news tonight.”

Rainpaw shook her head.

“I think Hailcloud is already asleep.” And then, in a small voice, she added; “I think I just want to go to sleep.”

All at once, he’s struck by the memory of Ripplepaw. Ripplepaw, who argued with him more often than not, Ripplepaw, who swore to the medicine cat code with a ferocity previously unknown - but Rainpaw wasn't Ripplepaw, and she would never be Ripplepaw.

Spots on her pelt, not swirls. Amber eyes, not hazel. 

Did Minnowstar ever think about Oakpaw the way he thought about Ripplepaw? They never discussed their first apprentices much, after they died.

“…All right,” Sootstream replied. “All right. Goodnight, Rainpaw. May StarClan bless your dreams.”

“And may they bless yours,” she murmured, yawning and stretching out. She laid her down on her paws, and, within moments, had fallen asleep.

Sootstream regarded her for a moment, before shaking his head. StarClan to bless his dreams? Unlikely. For that, he would have to sleep, and how could he sleep when his leader was dying?

No. Better to stay awake. So he could be there for her. Just as he always was. Just like he always will be.

He rose to his paws, and padded over to Minnowstar, just to check on her.

Still breathing. Still alive. He let out a sigh.

But her fur was still matted with blood. That wouldn't do.

There was too much to get through gentle grooming alone, so he used a clump of moss to fetch water from the river, and pressed that into her fur. The red faded away, revealing her silver tabby pelt underneath. The wounds remained hidden. He checked on them again, fixing cobwebs that had gone slightly askew.

It occurred to him, however distantly, that if she was younger, her wounds might have been survivable. Perhaps not all of them - a neck wound was a neck wound, and never ended well - and it would require his utmost attention and care, but there was a chance she would have lived on and fought another day.

She was old though. Both of them were old.

It wouldn’t do to disturb her much more. Too restless to lie back down in his nest, he set to organising the herbs and seeds, checking upon the spiders to see if he could harvest their webs yet.

As he worked, he thought.

Nine lives a leader had. He tried to remember how she had lost her previous ones. Two to illness, one to starvation. How often had she drowned? Once or twice?

The rest of her lives, much like this was to be, were lost to wounds, half of which were not even meant for her. There was that skirmish with those rogues, seasons ago. He hadn’t even been aware of it until she and other warriors limped back into camp. And at the Sunningrocks, she had died there once, red staining the stones as ThunderClan retreated and RiverClan mourned how their leader had fallen.

Sootstream hasn’t been there as much as he would have liked. So he had to be here now, at the end of it all. At the end of Minnowstar-and-Sootstream.

There wasn’t ever a time without her before now. Not as permanent as this was to be. She was two moons his elder. If his early memories weren’t of his mother, Pebblepelt, or his sister, then they were of Minnowstar. He had followed her everywhere he could until their paths had called differently. 

Abandoning the herbs, he padded back over to her and laid beside her, just as he always had done. He rested his head on her shoulder, and purred, because purring always helped, didn’t it?

She seemed so small. Was she always so small?

For a moment, he let his thoughts drift towards Dapplestream. He wondered if the young cat was asleep or not. No matter what happened that night, they would be leader, and a new cat would be deputy. Perhaps Thistlewhisker, despite the fact she was with kits. Deputyship had been delayed before and temporary deputies had made do. Or Reedflower - she was certainly a senior warrior now, one that Dapplestream often relied on, so it would seem sensible.

Still though. Such matters were not up to Sootstream. Not unless Dapplestream asked for his advice which seemed unlikely now, in light of all that happened, the younger cat more liable to turn towards Rainpaw.

After a while, Sootstream lifted his head, and he looked at Minnowstar.

Breathe in, and out. In, and out.

“Do you remember?” he asked into the quiet air. “When we were little. You had just become an apprentice and I was still a kit. Twisttail - remember she was Pikekit back then? - she wanted to practice fighting and I didn’t, and she tore up my left ear until it bled and bled. And I remember - I remember, when Heronleaf was trying to fix it so it wouldn’t be so bad - I remember hearing you shout. When I looked out, I saw you yelling at Twisttail for being so irresponsible. For hurting me. And I remember thinking how brave you were. How much courage you had, and how I wanted to be like you.”

Minnowstar had not stirred at all. He lowered his head until he was resting on her again.

“I wish I had some of that courage now,” he admitted into her fur.

The world had seemed kinder in those days.

Minnowstar stayed asleep as the night continued on. Sootstream watched her carefully, counting the rise and falls of her chest. Each breath another moment alive. He only left her once, because his throat was burning with thirst and he needed to drink

“Have you slept at all?”

Sootstream jumped, then felt shame flood him immediately. He twisted his head around to search for the source of the sound. There, at the entrance of the den, was Twisttail.

“You haven’t, have you.” A statement, not a question. He flattened his ears.

“She needs to be watched over,” he said, but it sounded weak to his own ears. “In case anything happens. Why are you here?”

Sighing, Twisttail stepped further into the den, until she had reached the nest Sootstream had made earlier and laid down. She watched him for a moment before shifting her gaze towards Minnowstar.

When she spoke, her voice was much softer than before. "I thought you would still be awake," she murmured. "Is she -"

"She's living," Sootstream replied. His heart couldn’t bear to hear those words. "She's breathing. She's -"

“She’s still here,” Twisttail finished for him. She nodded to herself, then lowered her head to rest on her paws. “She’s still here.”

Sootstream kept his eyes on the tabby, before he looked away, shaking his head.

“Why are you here?” he asked again, voice low. He was trembling. Why? “You don’t have to be here. I can handle this by myself. You can leave.”

Twisttail was quiet. Her tail kept flicking back and forth, back and forth, and for a moment, Sootstream could remember her before their apprentice ceremony, doing the same thing. Back and forth, back and forth.

“...I know I’ve never been the best sister,” Twisttail said, “but I know you, Sootstream, and I think you need someone right now. Someone who isn’t Minnowstar or Rainpaw. That’s why I’m here.” Then, quietly, she added, “She was my friend too. I was her deputy. I think you forget that, sometimes.”

They left it like that for a while. Sootstream stayed by Minnowstar’s side - watching rise and fall, rise, and fall - and Twisttail stayed in the nest just that much away from them. They didn’t talk, and Twisttail washed herself a little, but that was all.

But the silence felt smothering, not comforting like Sootstream had hoped it would. He had always worked best in silence, but now he was not working now. No - in this moment, it felt he was more like a patient than a healer.

"…Do you ever think about Ripplepaw?" he asked, then winced at himself, cursing his mouth for asking such a clumsy question.

Twisttail raised her head and blinked at him, and for a moment, he thought he had ruined everything and that she was going to leave, but then she spoke softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Of course I do," she mewed. "Every day. Her and Oakpaw both. And every time I think of them, I think of how much I love them, and how much I’m grateful that I was their mother, no matter how short our time was.”

She was shaking. Sootstream turned his head away from her.

“I think about her too,” he offered, aware that it wasn’t much. “She - was certainly her own self. I didn’t realise until I took Rainpaw on how much quieter the den was without her.”

He could still feel Twisttail’s eyes resting on him. He could feel the question she wanted to ask - what everyone wanted to ask - burning inside her, though he remained quiet. Kept his eyes on Minnowstar.

“...that was a bad season for RiverClan,” Twisttail murmured. “So many of us left for StarClan. The elders before… before she died, I remember the elders saying that this was a sign RiverClan was too proud. That we were going to die out like LostClan. We made it, of course, but back then…”

She sighed, and Sootstream closed his eyes. He didn’t think back to that season often, so desperate a time it was. Minnowstar was still Minnowpool, and idly if not hopefully, they had talked about her becoming his apprentice if things came out all right, since she was already assisting him and was good with the work - but then Cloverwhisker had caught the sickness and wasn’t strong enough, and Stonestar had announced Minnowpool as the next deputy...

"What would you have named her?" Twisttail’s voice jolted him from his thoughts. He turned to look at her, blinking.

“If - If Ripplepaw had made it,” Twisttail continued, shyer, almost. “I just - I want to know what I would have called her.”

Oh.

"Rippleheart,” he said quietly. “She was always so determined to do what she saw as right. She would have healed a fox if I'd have let her." He sighed, shaking his head. “She’d practise putting cobwebs on prey, did I ever tell you that? Insisted on it. Said if there weren’t cats injured, she had to make do and practice on other things.”

Twisttail purred. “Oh, I remember that. Back in the nursery, she’d collect leaves and cobwebs and play medicine cat with Oakpaw. I was so proud at their ceremony. I thought she’d be the best medicine cat in all the clans.”

Sootstream gasped. “Better than your brother?!” he said, not seriously, and then he sighed. “Twisttail, you wound me.”

“Oh, don’t flatter yourself,” she said, tail flicking. “You’re weren’t named Sootleaf for a reason, you know.”`

And then, as if the two of them remembered where they were, they fell silent again. Sootstream settled his gaze on Minnowstar again, and Twisttail curled up tightly in the nest.

That’s how they rested for a little while as the night crept onward towards dawn. Rainpaw woke at one point, and left for a drink of water, but made no comment on Twisttail’s presence. It wasn’t until the apprentice had fallen asleep and was gently snoring that either of them spoke again. 

“Sootstream,” Twisttail said quietly, raising her head. “If… if you weren’t a medicine cat, do you - do you think that you and Minnowstar would have been mates?”

“No.” Twisttail looked surprised at how immediate Sootstream’s answer was, how steady and strong his voice was. “No, we were never - we weren’t like that.”

He sighed, never taking his eyes off the sleeping leader. In, and out. In, and out.

She was still alive, if only just.

“I… I never wanted a mate,” he continued. Confessing such things to his sister felt odd. “No matter who it was, and neither did Minnowstar. What we have…” He shook his head. “What we have is ours. I know it’s strange to others, to you, even, and that others talk but… it works for us. There’s no other cat I’d rather walk alongside. We are what we are. Nothing more, nothing less.”

Twisttail nodded slowly, as though she understood, but she didn’t. No one ever did. Not even Harenose had understood, and there had been a brief moment when he was young and fresh off the loss of Ripplepaw and Heronleaf that he had thought she did -

Sootstream closed his eyes. Wished he was in a place far, far away from the cold medicine den. A place where he barely knew what the Clans were. A place where - perhaps, if only, if only - he could have been happy.

“Sootstream.” Twisttail, but if he kept his eyes closed, he could pretend. “You can survive this. You’ve survived this before.”

“I survived because of her.” His voice was shaking. He sounded like a kit when their mother left for the first time. “It’s _always_ been her.”

A warrior was meant to give their life for their leader. A leader, their life for their Clan. But what was a medicine cat meant to give when all their life was spent watching others die? Their heart? Themselves?

“Oh, Sootstream,” Twisttail sighed, and it took all of his strength for him not to cry out as though he were breaking.

There was the sound of movement, and then he heard Twisttail padding across the den towards him. He waited, but all that greeted him was the feeling of her warmth pressing against his side.

Then, her tongue ran across his tattered ear, once, twice.

An apology. But for what, for what?

“...you know how when a cat they are taken to StarClan by someone who was important to them?” she said quietly.

Sootstream nodded.

“I like to think,” Twisttail said carefully, her voice fading, “that when a leader dies, they are guided to StarClan by every cat that gave them a life. A group of cats, all walking the same path together, so that they aren’t alone. That’s what I think the death of a leader is like.”

Yes. He could imagine that too.

“That sounds... lovely,” he said. Aches had crept inside of him again, low and dull at every joint. And Minnowstar’s fur was so soft, and so warm...

“Sleep, Sootstream.” The warmth left him, followed by another lick to his ear. “If only for now.”

Sootstream was so very, very tired.

When he woke, it was in a place he both knew and didn’t know.

It was a quiet, lovely place, surrounded with starlight. A path, free of stones, stretched out before him, cutting through trees that grew so high he could scarcely see the sky. Ahead of him, the path opened up until it reached a place where the land dropped off and the water stretched out forever.

He followed it. The ground was warm underneath his paws, but not hot, like a stone would be after resting in the greenleaf sun all day. When he scented the air, no smell greeted him, so he continued on, alone. The journey took much longer than what was first suggested to him, but with a little strength and a little perseverance, he reached the place where the trees ended and the cliff began.

Minnowstar was sat at the edge of the cliff, her back facing Sootstream, her fur neater than it had been for seasons. Beside her was a molly, mostly black with flashes of white.

_Magpieflight.___

_ _Her other sister. How long had it been since she had died?_ _

_ _Coldness washed over Sootstream, and he shivered._ _

_ _Magpieflight turned her head to Minnowstar and mewed something that the breeze disguised from Sootstream. Both mollies then rose from where they sat, and turned back on themselves._ _

_ _Recognition lit up within Minnowstar’s eyes. But then she flicked her glance at Magpieflight, then back at Sootstream, before she shook her head, and she followed her sister as they walked towards the forest behind Sootstream. His mouth opened, and he tried to call out to her as they brushed past him, but the breeze stole the words from his throat, and all he could do was turn his head to watch._ _

_ _More cats - eight, maybe more, maybe less, how had he missed them? - stood in the forest, all stood, waiting to greet the other two cats, then two broke away, a silver-and-white tabby molly and a black tom, both bounding forward towards Minnowstar, and the black tom had a strange stumble-step, and it was then, only then that Sootstream realised who they were, as Minnowstar raced to meet them too, they were -_ _

_ _\- her _parents_ -_ _

_ _Sootstream woke with a gasp, leaping to his paws. It was lighter inside the den, neither Rainpaw nor Twisttail present, and the beginning of the dawn chorus fell upon his ears, but he ignored that, pushed those thoughts aside._ _

_ _“Minnowstar!”_ _

_ _She was still there beside him, and that stopped his panic for a moment, but when he lowered his head to give her a quick lick to her forehead, he realised._ _

_ _He realised that she was cold to the touch. That she was perfectly still. That she no longer held her familiar scent._ _

_ _He realised that —_ _

_ _"She's gone," he whispered. "She's gone."_ _

_ _Something broke._ _

_ _He said it, again and again and again, until the words were no longer there, and it was nothing more than a low pained scream, hot and wretched in his throat._ _

_ _"She's - gone!"_ _

_ _And he cried and he cried, even as other cats rushed inside to help, until the sound had become nothing more than silence._ _

**Author's Note:**

> I'll most likely start posting more about these OCs. Preferably a fic where none of them die.
> 
> If you want me to clarify anything, such as a cat's appearance, just ask. 
> 
> I hope you've enjoyed this fic! If you have any questions, liked the fic, have feedback or noticed any mistakes, post in the comments below, or at my tumblr [here](http://princedrewwrites.tumblr.com), or if you prefer, there's my Warrior Cats blog [here](minnowmist.tumblr.com) . I'm on there pretty often now. Or, if you just liked the fic and don't want to say anything, just leave a kudos. There's no pressure either way.


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